I had a guy doing work on our house who did a bad job on one part, and when I pointed it out, he explained why heād done a bad job. And I was like, I donāt care why you sucked, I just want to know that youāre going to fix it. The same holds true for the sixth graders. Iām not interested in all the reasons why you didnāt do the homework, Iām grading you based on that you did or didnāt do it.
Our school doesnāt assign much homework, even if parents wish we did. Research shows thereās limited value beyond math practice and reading. So my homework has long been to read, two hours a week, at least 15 books in a year. If weāre reading together, there might be deadlines ā finish chapter 7 by Tuesday, etc. And Iām the stickler teacher with little tolerance for kids who not doing assignments. As a kid, Iād work hard to get things done on time, then watch my putative rival get an extension and eventually get a better grade. Is there no value to respecting a deadline? Work is due when itās due.
Among the (admittedly few) kids who miss homework, some cop to it, more offer a buffet of excuses. I had a really busy day and my aunt visited and my baseball game went late and the president of Switzerland stopped by and-- Iām asking you what, and youāre telling me why. You didnāt use the class time I gave you, you had three days to read, you knew you had baseball on day 3, you had the time but you left it for the end and ran out of time. They donāt admit this, they supply the reasons they know should supersede all. Of course baseball practice takes precedence over schoolwork, you do my homework when you have time.
Accepting responsibility is not a natural strong suit for sixth graders. Legitimate excuses do exist, and context matters. But too often itās about deflecting responsibility, and I view answering why when I ask what as changing the subject. Donāt explain why you didnāt do it, just admit it, catch up, and do it right next time. We all make mistakes, learn from it and move on.
The Urban Blah
Back in 2009-11 I collaborated with the brilliant Vee to make a webcomic that failed to become syndicated across the globe. I am pro-recycling.
This may be an actual transcript of a conversation I had repeatedly at the office job that convinced me I shouldnāt have an office job any more. I might have even developed the theory from this. And like the Onion, I just accepted my role and took a guess. Also, Vee has a substack, you should subscribe!
Jam of the Week
A bunch of new music percolating, or at least new to me. Iāll shout out the 2015 Steep Leans album, Grips on Heat. Catchy indie rock, guitar-forward, semi-repetitive, somewhat noisy Yo La Tengo vibes (my favorite flavor of YLT). They apparently have a 2023 EP, but it seems theyāve evolved into something Iām not as into, so Iāll stick by my slightly more aged pick.
My Back Pages
As teased last week, my contribution to a middle school musical from yesteryear. The play was vignettes about growing up and my contribution was āThe Talk,ā from 2016. The dad enters and does some corny dad stuff with Little Timmy, a character named after the hero of one of that yearās sixth graderās writing assignments. I was like, Look, I got Little Timmy in the school play! An in-joke for 20 kids.
MR. ANDERSON: But look at you now. Growing up, getting all big.
TIMMY: I eat a lot of protein.
MR. ANDERSON: Big Timmy! Before you know it, youāll be a man.
TIMMY: Iāve got a ways to go.
MR. ANDERSON: Oh, you do. Andā¦ (suddenly changes; this is the beginning of āThe Talkā) you donāt. You know, Timmy, youāre getting older. Youāre getting bigger. Things areā¦ starting to change.
This was the crux of sketch: the kid realizes heās about to get āThe Talkā and tries to bail out. I had them cast this tiny, hilarious Indian kid as Little Timmy, and he nailed it.
TIMMY: (slowly realizing) Holy guacamole. Dadā¦ Dad, you canāt do this.
MR. ANDERSON: Timmy, we all come to the time in our livesā¦
TIMMY: Dad, no! Donāt do this! Donāt make me have (big air quotes) āThe Talk.ā
MR. ANDERSON: You see, there are birds and there are beesā¦
TIMMY: NO!!! Please, Dad, not tonight! Dr. Who is on tonight, I donāt want to get distracted.
Iām guessing I knew kids at that time who were into Dr. Who. Always pandering to the Brits. Timmy keeps ushering his dad out.
TIMMY: It was real, it was fun, it was real fun. Butā¦ smell ya later!
MR. ANDERSON: (more impatient) Timmyā¦
TIMMY: Dad, please go away!
MR. ANDERSON: Timmy, we need to talk about your armpits!
(An awkward pause)
TIMMY: Mom!
MR. ANDERSON: Youāre going to start to see hair in your armpits. But thatās okay!
If I remember correctly, these armpits jokes went over big. The mom enters and Timmy begs her for help.
MRS. A: (to Mr. Anderson) Bert, is it true that youāre trying to kill little Timmy?
MR. ANDERSON: I am not, Doris.
TIMMY: Okay, fine, heās not trying to kill me. But he wants to have (big air quotes) āThe Talkā with me. Tonight!
MRS. A: Oh, Timmy. You donāt feel comfortable having āThe Talkā with your dad?
MR. ANDERSON: Weāll have fun!
TIMMY: Talking about my armpits?
MR. ANDERSON: It begins with the armpits, then itā¦ travels.
(Timmy shudders)
Really all the armpit jokes did well. Maybe I should increase the armpit content on this substack.
TIMMY: Canāt I just watch something on Youtube?
MRS. A: Of course not! Oh Timmy, would you rather have āThe Talkā with me?
TIMMY: No no no!
MR. ANDERSON: Do you want to have āThe Talkā with both of us together?
TIMMY: Are you from outer space?
MRS. A: Maybe Grandpa?
MR. ANDERSON: A teacher?
MRS. A: What if we got that guy from the library?
TIMMY: (appalled) Mr. Dadeekian?Ā
Getting Little Timmy into the school play was a reference 20 kids would get, but shouting out my wifeās high school Russian teacher? A far more limited audience, my whole life is one constant in-joke with the wife. I think itās actually spelled Dadekian, but I wanted to make sure it got pronounced in the funniest way possible, and thatās a good name. I chose it not just to amuse the wife, but because itās a great name for this bit. I feel like this joke did OK with the crowd, but I thought it killed.
MR. ANDERSON: Timmy, I am your father. This is your destiny. Search your feelings, you know it to be true.
TIMMY: Why is this happening to me?!
I love dropping Star Wars references because itās one of the rare things they like that Iām a light expert in. I hope the drama teacher cut the scene here because the rest is fairly superfluous. But this was certainly my middle school dramatic high water mark, truly a bright and shining armpit in a sea of elbows. Maybe I need to workshop my armpit material.